


Here Be Salamanders

by RussianWitch, springbok7



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/springbok7/pseuds/springbok7
Summary: Alec doesn't die when he should have.Neither 00's nor Quartermasters quite know how to deal with mythical creatures, especially when emotion gets in the way on all sides.Slices of life collection.





	Here Be Salamanders

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd
> 
> Inspired by an off the rails conversation in an FB group.

"—out of there _now_ , 006!" Q doesn't scream, the earwig cannot make him any louder than he is, and yelling cannot accomplish anything from 5000 kilometers away.   
He sees Trevelyan turn away and pick up speed on camera, he also sees the speed of the explosion.  

Trevelyan isn't going to make it. 

Balling his fists and digging his nails into his palms, Q keeps watching even as the fireball rolling out from the explosion overtakes the agent and engulfs him. 

Only when he can see only fire, does he switch over to the agent R has been arguing with softly at a bank of monitors to his right. 

"007, status?" He snaps cutting through the sotto argument. 

The cameras show that 007 is surrounded, five enemy combatants, his gun empty and back against the wall. 

"A little busy, Quartermaster!" Bond grumbles under his breath, trying to decide which enemy agent forms the biggest threat. 

Q desperately wants to demand that 007 wait for a better solution—wait for backup, except there is no backup coming, and with five against one a better opportunity would be a miracle. 

He bites his lip to keep from demanding 007 be careful, switching between cameras hoping to see something, _anything_ that would allow him to save at least one agent. 

The enemy combatant farthest from Bond bursts into flame and falls to the ground flailing. Another gets lit up, drops the gun and runs into a third as Bond lunges for the agent closest to him liberating a gun and finishing him and the last enemy agent standing. 

He doesn't lower the gun once the last enemy hits the ground, instead, he aims at something just out of camera range. 

"What are you?" Q hears Bond ask as he fights with the cameras trying to see whatever Bond is looking at. 

"That's—better explained over a pint, don't you think, James?" 006 says, stepping into Q's view naked as the day he was born and surrounded by flame. 

Bond stands his ground as Alec approaches the gun not moving an inch even as Alec wraps his hand around it and the barrel melts. 

"Not your enemy, mate," he says looking up at the camera, "Duck and Goose, tomorrow night, all of us having a nice pint." 

* * *

The agents come in, Alec's demise is written off as a system misfunction and no mention is made of enemies set on fire. They act like nothing has happened, the best of friends on and off mission. Q cannot spot even a hint of tension between them—which means they talked it out somewhere between Moldavia and Chisinau, considering Bond is sporting a fat lip, fists had been involved. 

He ignores them as best he can, supervising the return of their equipment and doling out paperwork amidst snarking and groans. 

For once the hours drag, and by the time he can finally leave Q practically runs from the building in case anyone decides there is something left for him to do. 

"What are you?" he asks sliding into the booth on James' side of the table while desperately wishing for a chair so he didn't have to pick. 

Alec chuckles into his pint. 

* * *

 His heating bill is a nightmare, but the quality of the alcohol in the house has improved tremendously. 

Q wonders if it's possible to claim expenses with their employer, but asking Moneypenny about it would mean explaining the situation. Asking HR—he can't even imagine how to start that conversation. 

From the doorway, he watches Alec sprawled under several heating lamps in what used to be Q's hobby room scales shimmering as he naps like a cat in the sun. 

Alan perches on the edge of Alec's space, reaping the benefits of a salamander using Q's apartment as his hiding hole.  

Q's cat has taken to Alec with unnatural alacrity. Having another heated corner to nap in might explain it, but Q sometimes wonders if Alec has neglected to mention skills outside of breathing fire and withstanding explosions. 

* * *

 James kisses him, unasked for but not unwanted the kiss shocks Q into pliancy, pinned against the door of his office by the spy's broader frame. James only lets him go when Q thinks he's going to suffocate. 

He barely regains enough composure to sound stern when opening the door and ordering the man to get out and leave him in peace. 

Of course, there is nothing to be done about his swollen lips, still glistening with spit.  

The minions may be oblivious, Alec heading in after six weeks undercover is not.  

Q watches his face twist in anger, and the other double-o in his life do a sharp about turn and march back out of the branch practically throwing his gear at T. 

The local news is full of a major fire close to the old docks when Q turns on the telly after getting home. 

Alan wakes him in the middle of the night by sitting on his head in protest. When Q goes to investigate what pissed off his cat, he finds two agents taking up his couch, both bruised and rumpled looking. 

"What the fuck are you do doing here?" He demands, annoyed and wishing to still be asleep. 

"It occurred, that as the subject of it, you should be part of our—," James starts. 

"Discussion," Alec finishes with a sneer, licking blood from the corner of his mouth. 

"In the middle of the night?" Q asks, and gets two vacant stares in return, "I hate both of you!" 

He marches off to the kitchen, puts the kettle on and washes his face in the sink in a fruitless attempt to get a little more conscious. Scalding his mouth Q downs the first cup while it's still barely steeped, then makes another one to take back into the living room. 

While he was busy with his tea, the agents have found his first aid kit and were already busy patching each other up. 

"Right," he sighs, settling in his favorite chair, "what discussion am I supposed to be part of exactly that cannot wait until business hours?" 

* * *

Q wiggles from under two heavy arms, ignoring one green, and one blue opening briefly to watch him look for his underpants. 

He isn't sure if he's disappointed they don't drag him back into bed or relieved. 

Almost everyone in Q-branch, almost everyone in MI6 has a fantasy about sleeping with a 00. As far as Q is aware, no one has actually thought about /sleeping/ with a 00, definitely not sleeping with /two/ of them. 

"Second thoughts?" Alec asks, sometime later. 

Q is on his third cup of tea, so they gave him some time to think on his own. 

"Fifth, sixth—definitely not second," he shrugs. 

"That bad, huh?" Instead of asking for their location, Alec riffles through the cupboards until he finds a mug to make a horrible concoction that involves tinned milk, which Q definitely did _not_ buy and half a lemon. 

"To sound completely trite, it's not you, it's me. The ramifications..." If M ever finds out, scratch that, if M ever decided to use Q's laps of professionalism against him— 

"So, James gets the boy, as usual," Alec muses, not sounding particularly surprised. 

"What? That's not what I bloody well meant and you know it!" Q smacks the agent on the back of the head, "not everything revolves around James—bloody—Bond!" 

**Author's Note:**

> No, I have not reached the marshmallow roast yet, but it's coming.


End file.
